


an itch, nothing more

by writevale



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banned Together Bingo, Fill: prurient interest, Intense preoccupation with sex, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Slapping, Two bastard men who are not in love, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writevale/pseuds/writevale
Summary: Jonah Magnus thought he knew what to expect when taking over Elias Bouchard's body.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	an itch, nothing more

**Author's Note:**

> _prurient interest_ : a morbid, degrading and unhealthy interest in sex, as distinguished from a mere candid interest in sex.

Rosie gave him another once over as she turned to exit his office, brow slightly furrowed underneath the bangs that James Wright had paid no mind but Elias Bouchard thought were tragically 2007. Elias sat stiffly in his seat and stared at her open mouth until she asked:

'Um, Mr Bouchard, sir? Are you alright?'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

'Are you sure? You seem a little flushed.'

'Quite sure.'

He was, in fact, entirely sure that the opposite was true. What had it been now? Five days? Five days into his new body and still, _still,_ this dreadful itch. He'd had a similar experience with James, it had taken weeks to train himself out of the compulsion to chain drink coffee after coffee, but he thought he knew what to expect with Elias. The untouched packet of nicotine gum in his suit pocket proved just how wrong he was.

What Elias Bouchard craved, apparently, was sex.

Jonah Magnus had Known, of course, when he selected the young man out to be his next identity, that Elias had a frequently changing cast of lovers. It had cheered him to think that inhabiting Elias' body might be akin to coming home, Jonah himself had been no stranger to the dark art of romance in his youth. What he hadn't Known was just how deep Elias' need for carnal relations ran. It was near-consuming, a fire in the man's blood that had Jonah's eyes raking random passers-by and, worse, his own employees up and down in search of someone (anyone) who might drain the hot pool of need from deep within him.

'- A cup of tea, or-?'

'No, _thank you_ , Rosie. That will be all. Ah, do close the door on your way out.'

She shot him another confused glance but mercifully obeyed her new boss and the office door snapped shut with a satisfying click. The second she was gone, Elias pushed his chair back with a groan, leaning forwards to press his face against the cool, dark surface of his desk. Rosie was right, he was flushed. Terribly so. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a fortifying breath which did nothing but shift the seam of his suit against his new and persistently interested cock. In this position, it was easy to imagine how someone might be able to sit in this chair and take him from behind while he typed up his correspondence. Elias' eyelashes fluttered, golden against his pink cheeks, as his head filled with the fantasy of having this desperate hole he had inherited stretched out and filled while he went about his work, warming the fat cock of some handsome stranger and taking load after load as and when he needed it. Or no, not some handsome stranger, a man whose beard would tickle the back of Elias' neck as he rested back against him, whose scathing comments in that genial tone of his would get lost in a mist of breath as Elias bore down on him and -

'Enough!' Elias slammed a fist down against his desk in protest against his racing thoughts. He peeled himself upwards with considerable effort and glared down at the increasingly prominent tightness around his crotch. Brushing his hair out of his face, Elias considered if this was just the penance for his own vanity, the price he must pay for coveting a younger man's body. Elias Bouchard had been ripe for the picking. And seemingly desperate for someone to take a bite from him. He imagined full lips on his neck, spit-slick and parting to reveal the pleasure-pain pressure of teeth. ' _Enough_.' He growled again.

Five days of this.

Elias knew it would pass. Just as surely as James Wright's trembling hands and dreadful headaches had. But what was he meant to do until then? Finish himself off to Big Ben's chimes every hour? A writhing shame crept up into his throat as he remembered how unsuccessfully that had worked on the first day. Besides, it would only be a matter of time before Rosie caught him and the rumour mill spun its story that the new Head of the Magnus Institute had some kind of _prurient interest._ Then, Elias would have to step down and Jonah would have no time at all to select an appropriate replacement. He sighed.

Masturbation didn't even slake his desire fully. It was the difference between reading a written statement and watching the capillaries burst in someone's eyes, splashing their sclera with crimson blossoms, as they watched their deepest horrors unfold. He needed - _Christ_. He knew what he needed.

His fingers crawled their way over to the phone on his desk which he lifted and stabbed the button that would put him through to Rosie. On the other side of his office door, he Knew she was surprised to hear the phone ring. She'd only been back in her seat a few seconds and for her, unlike Elias, those few seconds weren't an aching eternity.

'Mr Bouchard?'

'Rosie, please cancel my 4pm meeting.'

'Mr-?'

'And, expect a Mr . . .' He made a show of scrabbling at the papers on his desk for Rosie to hear at the other end of the phone. 'Lukas. Peter Lukas. He's requested an urgent appointment with me.' _Not that he knows it yet_ , Elias thought with a smirk but gripped the edge of his desk until his fingertips blanched to stop himself from sinking into the memory of the weight of Peter's member in his hand. Elias' hands were much smaller than those of spindly-fingered James Wright. It made Peter seem even larger in comparison. 'Hm?' Rosie was still talking.

'I was just saying, just because you're new - um, just to warn you that Mr Lukas isn't much of a people person.' If he weren't so distracted, Elias would have struggled not to giggle. Peter Lukas, not much of a people-person. Quite. Instead, he smiled a fox's grin and replied earnestly,

'Oh, thank you for the warning, Rosie. I'm sure I can handle him.'

Peter, predictably, did not answer Elias' first few calls, leaving the new Head of the Magnus Institute almost squirming in his chair and, obscenely - _honestly,_ where did Jonah find this creature? - trying not to touch himself to the thought of his twitching sphincter swallowing up the phone's handset.

He punched in the number once more.

'Hello, you have reached Peter Lukas. I cannot take your call right now, but please leave a message after the . . . _Damnit._ '

'You didn't think far enough ahead to the beep, did you?' Elias was still working on manipulating the nuances of this new voice. But he thought that came out suitably smug. Peter's sigh whistled down the line and Elias could have begged to feel it against his bare skin.

'What do you want . . . James? Jonah? Whatever you are at the moment?'

‘ _Elias._ ’ He ground out through his teeth. He wasn't in the mood for Peter to push his buttons right now. Except one. 'Anyway, I need you to come to the Institute immediately.' He sought out Peter's eyes and Saw through them. He was in their drawing room, feet resting up on a footstool, a picture of lazy solitude. Elias grimaced as his mouth flooded with the sharp tang of the cheese Peter was nibbling on. Cheese that, until five days ago, had been his favourite. 'Don't make excuses.'

'Ah - hah. But I am, _really busy_ , Mr Bouchard.'

Elias made a tight, almost pained sound at the very idea of Peter trying to deny him now. 'Get here.' He snarled. 'And stop eating my cheese!'

*

'You don't even like that cheese anymore.' Peter commented idly as he walked through the door to the office not two minutes later. After what Peter said on Monday about his choice of new body, he wasn't entirely sure where they were in terms of their relationship status but the knowledge that he came here so quickly made something predatory inside Elias simply purr with satisfaction. He gave Peter moment to sweep his frosty gaze around the newly decorated room, though his toes curled with the anticipatory pang of lust at the man's presence. A fine mist curled from the captain as his gaze landed an inch above Elias' golden hair, 'I hate what you've done with the place.' He said.

'You would.' Elias bit back waspishly. The constant hum of desperation in his veins was building into a distracting scream, every cell in this new and treacherous body shrieking that _he's right there_. He Knew that Peter could smell the craving for human touch coming off him in waves. It's why he came.

'Well?' Peter prompted, 'I half expected to find your Archivist in here with a handful of burning statements.'

'Ha ha ha.' Elias stared right at Peter's face, watching a hint of colour rise in the strip of cheek visible above his beard, until the man succumbed to the compulsion to meet his eyes. Peter's lips parted when he saw what was burning in them.

' _Again?_ '

'There are other people I can call.' Elias loved the twitch of annoyance that narrowed Peter's eyes. _Most_ of Peter's good sense told him that this smug, petite man who was apparently housing his lover was bluffing. But not enough to call him out on it. Elias Bouchard hoped he was a difficult offer to refuse, because he wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen to his Institute if he didn't scratch this itch. And soon. 'Why don't you see if those old joints of yours can cope with locking the door and getting those awful trousers off?'

Some couples, when looking to spice up their sex lives, will assume a fake identity to cope with the truth that they don't want to fuck the person they married anymore. _This_ , Richard Mendelson had explained to his fresh-faced beaux as they watched James Wright go about his work from a concealed distance, _is just like that_. Except, a little more . . . Enduring.

Elias' lips split into an almost-relieved smile as Peter turned to the door in acquiescence, murmuring something about his joints and respecting one's elders. The months after Jonah swapped into a new body were always a sort of honeymoon period for them. Despite Peter's pathetic insistence that he no longer wanted to be seen with a man decades younger than him, if the look he threw at the newly nude Elias was anything to go by, then his grievances were token complaints at best.

The first press of Peter's mouth against his own was electric. The senses that had become dulled and pushed out by the painful need of his arousal suddenly bursted to life with a startling clarity. Peter was long overdue a trip back out on the Tundra and the time away from the sea left his lips smooth as silk, juxtaposed by the wiry tickle of his stubbornly greying beard against Elias' cheeks. He breathed against Peter's open mouth, craving the slick press of his lips just as much as he wanted to feel the scratch of that beard working its way down to the hardness between his thighs. He moaned, a guttural hum of a noise, as Peter's tongue curled past his own. The feeling, alongside the accompanying fantasy of what that tongue would feel like _elsewhere_ , was exquisite. Peter stalled almost imperceptibly, James Wright had always been a silent lover. Elias Bouchard, however, was not. 

There was something else too, about the kiss, Peter had been eating gorgonzola and yet - Elias nearly laughed. The soft bastard had brushed his teeth.

Large, calloused hands came to rest on the slight curve of Elias' hips and Elias pressed forwards against Peter's bare torso. The chill on his burning skin after the hours of filthy-minded torture this body had forced itself through felt as close to heaven as a creature such as Jonah Magnus could hope to achieve. He felt like a golden idol, beautiful and coveted. Waiting to be claimed by a foolish man.

A groan fell into Peter’s mouth as those large hands groped downwards to catch the swell of Elias’s buttocks and pull the cheeks apart.

‘How long did you wait before calling me?’ Peter asked, a glimmer of a cruel smile playing at the edge of his lips as he adjusted his grip so he could trace the hot rim of Elias’ hole with a finger. The smaller man made no secret of the shiver than ran down his spine and pressed his erection between their two stomachs with a bitten lip.

‘Long enough.’

'Good.'

Elias let out a yelp that even he was a little disappointed by as Peter's fingertips sunk deep into the flesh of his ass and he was lifted bodily off the floor. He scrambled to wind his hands around Peter's neck with a huff even as the creature controlling his lust mewled with the delight of finally being trapped in the arms of a strong man. Certainly, none of his predecessors had ever had the pleasure of twisting their fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Peter's neck as they were carried across the office and deposited in the man's lap as he sunk down into the expensively ergonomic office chair Elias had splurged on when he took the top job.

'Look at you, sweeping me off my feet for once.' He bit into Peter's bottom lip and the man hissed.

'Objectively, I haven't changed at all. You're the one who picked such a tiny body to inhabit.'

Elias would love to have this argument again, he really would. But the desire to grind his erection against Peter's hairy stomach was becoming near unbearable and the chime of his computer only served as a reminder of the work waiting for him when he was able to focus again. Fortunately, he thought he knew how to move Peter along. He pressed himself forwards, relishing the huff of Peter's breath against his skin as the tip of his cock bumped against Elias' shaft.

'Well, the Lukas family do like to marry them off young.' He whispered into the shell of Peter's ear.

The slap wasn't entirely unexpected. Nothing was anymore. But the sharp sting of it against the flesh of his ass sent ripples of burning pleasure through the rest of his body and Elias moaned as, in the wake it, his vision swam with fantasies of getting bent over Peter's lap between meetings and spanked ruthlessly.

'Get on the floor.' Peter's charming voice made it almost sound optional. Elias knew better but didn't miss the opportunity to drag his aching balls down Peter's thigh as he slipped off his lap and to his knees. He licked his lips as Peter spread his legs and gestured for Elias' to crawl closer. The polished floorboards were hard and cold against his knees but, God, it was freeing to be back in a body that could kneel on the floor for any period of time and get up and walk about like it was nothing afterwards. Even if such a body came with a frankly unhealthy craving for the thing bobbing before Elias' eyes. Peter was right. He hadn't changed but, in perspective, his cock seemed even larger than Elias remembered. It jutted out from the opposing curves of Peter's stomach and thighs, sporting a gentle upwards curve of its own, the head of it already blushing a dusky pink and the shaft traversed by the blue-tinged bulge of congested veins beneath the milky-white skin.

Elias started to reach for it, desperate to rediscover how Peter's member measured up against his hands, a nonsensical question spiralling out through the sparks of his lust - _what am I going to do if it's more than two handfuls? -_ only to find that his hand was slapped away.

'Oh, no. No, no.' Peter had the gall to talk as if they had all day. 'I think you should show me if that new mouth is better at sucking my cock than running an Institute.'

Elias' mouth dropped open in outrage which deepened into a vindictive fury as Peter fisted a hand into his hair and abruptly shoved the tip of his penis between his parted lips.

'Mmph!' He growled in protest around the thick, salty intrusion. His nostrils flared as he tried to suck in enough air to combat the burn in his lungs but Peter wasted no time in tilting Elias's head back so he could swallow him down further. _He's lucky I don't bite him_ , Elias thought savagely as his hands curled into fists in his own lap, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of being used like that was all he was good for.

'Oh, Elias.' Peter chuckled. One of his hands twisted free of Elias' curls and began to smooth down the dip of Elias' spine. It felt like an ice cube dropped down the back of his shirt, a perfect mix of discomfort and cooling relief. Peter leaned forwards, cock-head now bumping against the back of Elias' throat. Elias didn't even choke, far too caught up in wondering exactly what Peter was going to do with the searching fingers that were creeping down the cleft of his cheeks. 'If you want me to fuck you, you're going to have to do better than that.' Peter paused, pulling back slightly with both his fingers and his cock. Elias whined around it, tongue swirling around the underside of Peter's shaft as best he could with the lack of space inside his mouth. When he looked up, Peter was staring at the red stretch of Elias' mouth around his spit-slicked cock. His mouth twisted in an expectant sadness that made Elias squirm. 'Can you even do better?' He asked, tone heavy with a patronising concern.

Elias narrowed his eyes and _sucked_ , swallowing down the bitter pre-come that Peter spilled onto the back of his tongue. Peter's breath caught and his smile was more of a baring of teeth.

'Well, why didn't you say so?'

The descent of Peter's hand was much quicker this time and Elias spluttered around the length of him as Peter bent at the hips to press a blunt fingertip against the eager twitch of his hole. He dragged that fingertip back and forth across Elias' hole twice, the feeling like the first sip of water after a dry eternity in the blazing sun. There was enough time to think, _fuck, he's not going to go in there dry_ before he was breached by Peter. Elias couldn't form a curse around the cock in his mouth, but he screamed internally and let Peter know what he thought by way of a long, loud groan, the pain of it buffering the senseless need that had been building in him all day. The burn of being split open by Peter's finger granted him enough space in his head for a single rational thought: _Rosie is going to hear you if you keep up like this_.

Peter pulled out of him as suddenly as he had pushed in and Elias' toes curled in answer, as much at the unfairness of the sudden abandonment as in relief when the pain of it sizzled back into the familiar simmer of want. Elias gasped for air, dizzy and mouth hanging wide open as Peter sat up and rolled backwards in the office chair he had made a throne. A thin line of clear fluid connected the swollen flesh of Elias' bottom lip with the head of Peter's cock and he shivered as Peter smoothed his thumb across Elias' lip to wipe it away.

'Let me see that hole.'

Elias scrambled to his feet, grabbing the side of his desk as an encroaching darkness threatened to drop him back to the floor. He recovered himself enough to shoot a glare over at his chuckling husband _\- or ex-husband_? It was hard to keep track.

Peter looked unfairly good like his, resting back in his office chair as casual as they come, cock a leaking red exclamation mark against his porcelain skin. Elias Bouchard could give as good as good as he got. _No,_ he thought as he snapped open the top drawer of his desk and rummaged until his hand landed on the lubricant and a condom. He placed them delicately on his desk before laying himself down across it, sweaty chest sticking slightly to the mahogany surface. _I can do better_.

The rumble of wheels against the hard floor was the only warning Elias was given before Peter's knees bumped against his own. A cool hand pressed between his thighs and Elias took the hint to swing one of his legs up, scattering a pile of papers he'd been meaning to get to all day. Elias' ties with the Beholding left him more voyeur than exhibitionist, but his body thrummed with the ecstasy and anticipation of this exposure. He swore he could feel Peter's gaze on his skin and he Watched through the man's eyes as he took in the darker, pinkish line that guided the eye down to the ruddy pucker of his entrance and lower, to where his balls and aching dick hung off the edge of the desk, begging to be touched.

As though he put the thought in Peter's head, Elias jumped as his cock was enveloped in a tight fist, sending a shriek of pleasure up his spine which demanded that Elias do better than to neglect it again. He bit back a moan as Peter pumped it, once, twice, before dropping it with a thoughtful hum.

'That's alright, I guess.' He judged, effectively drizzling a mix of denial and mortification into the fire of Elias' lust. He proceeded to ruin it with the plastic clacking sounds of a pathetically sheltered old bastard failing to operate the lever to adjust the chair height. Elias was turning to scowl over his shoulder at the man when the chair ascended with a pressurised huff of air and one of Peter's large hands pressed down firmly between the prominent wings of his shoulder blades.

Peter tutted. A loud clack of sound that served to remind Elias' roaming and filthy mind that the man had a mouth, a tongue, a -

The slap across his arse was less expected this time. And it stung.

'I _said_ , let me see that hole.'

Mortifying. The way that Peter's icy request sent Elias's hands squeaking back against the glossy surface of his desk to pull his cheeks apart like some kind of bitch in heat? Mortifying. The skin was hot where Peter had struck him and it burned like the shame Elias was trying to swallow. When he finally had a handle on this intolerable prurience, Peter would have a lot to answer for.

As it was now, he merely shivered as he heard the pop of a bottle being opened and jumped at the cold press of a slick fingertip at his entrance. He could hear the wet sounds of Peter stroking himself and moaned as he took in the view from one of the paintings on the wall: Peter's cock pointing upwards towards the curve of his hairy stomach, Elias spread out across the desk as though Peter were the head of the Institute and he was no better than his little afternoon delight.

Peter Lukas breached him with a look of disgust in the line of his mouth and Elias moaned as the blunt fingertip slipped up inside to press at the swollen bulge of his prostate. He felt full already, so full he felt like crying with it, and still this greedy body craved more. He braced himself, ready for Peter to force him open, willing to take the pain of it if it meant he got that cock inside him faster. Instead, Peter was gentle with him, almost clinical in the methodical way he stretched Elias open, and slow enough to have the man groaning loudly though the dripping drool he was unable to wipe away.

'Look at you.' Peter murmured. More cautious revulsion than appreciative lust. 'You're just swallowing my fingers up.' And he was. Peter had what felt like three fingers stretching out his hole and Elias was grinding back onto to them, hips circling in an attempt to get Peter to brush up against the spot that would make him see stars.

'Oh, oh, _fuck_.' Elias moaned as he hit it.

'I would aim to be just a little quieter if I were you. Rosie's desk is just outside, after all.' Then, he was pulling out delicately, leaving Elias to clench down around nothing with a hiss.

The metallic fumble of a condom wrapper and the squelching release of lubricant on to Peter's waiting member. Dry mouthed, Elias craned his neck to find Peter's waiting eyes.

'Peter.' He breathed. Peter bathed him in a cold smile, rising from the office chair and laying cold hands on Elias' spread thighs.

'How many times Elias?'

Elias keened as he felt the tip of Peter's cock at his entrance. Not pressing in but _just there_. The firm pressure on his legs prevented him from arching back against it. It dimly occurred to him that Peter had asked a question.

'Wh-?'

'How many times, Elias?' Peter was dragging his cock head across the twitching pucker of muscle now. Elias dropped his head to the cool surface of his desk. 'How many times did you make that little thing between your legs come before giving in and calling me?'

'Ugh. _Peter_.' Half-snap, half-groan. Peter pushed forwards just slightly, enough for Elias to feel the beginning of the stretch all the way down to the backs of his knees.

'Answer me.' Peter whispered, tone vicious now. Finally, a crack in the frozen demeanour.

'Oh, god, I don't even know.' He made a sound close to a yowl as Peter pulled back. Once this was over, once Jonah had settled into this body, he was never going to show Peter a hint of desperation again. 'Fuck - ah, ah!' Peter stroked him once, from root to tip, and Elias felt himself dump a load of pre-come onto the floor. ' _Fuck_.'

'Pathetic.' Peter decided.

Elias' world went white as Peter chose that moment to slip his cock past the first tight ring of muscle. The Captain grunted as he pushed past the second one and his fingers sunk into the flesh of Elias's thighs, hard enough to bruise. Elias hoped it did. Peter folded himself forwards as he started to thrust and there was nothing Elias could do but mewl under the weight of him. Surrender to it.

This body, Elias Bouchard, had some kind of lost connection between his brain and larynx. Curses and cries spilled from his throat with each shock of pleasure that shot up the ladder of his spine as Peter moved inside him. Captain Lukas still had a few surprises in him, the mumbled litany against the sweaty skin of Elias's back was one of them.

'- need this, Elias. You can't get past this addiction without being filled like the greedy little slut you chose to inhabit.' The words only fuelled the ache in Elias' already tenderly swollen cock even as he thought _no, no that's not it_. Something twisted in his stomach, entirely separate from the hedonistic roar of their sex. Jonah Magnus knew that intertwining his life so carelessly with a Lukas of all people might create problems for future versions of himself. He knew that, when it was taking longer than expected to fasten the reins around a new body, it was because he hadn't claimed it fully yet. Perhaps this time, he needed Peter to claim it too.

'Yes.' He hissed to whatever Peter was continuing to ramble on about and was rewarded with a particularly deep thrust that startled an even louder cry from his lips. 'Oh - mm! FUCK.' He felt the scrape of Peter's beard along the line of his back and then the man straightened up to wrap a clammy hand tight around Elias mouth. It muffled Elias' groans effectively enough that he could finally focus on the rough pant of Peter's breath. He was close. 'Take it.' He groaned into the palm of Peter's hand, Watching from the paintings as Peter's face contorted into a snarl as he fucked Elias faster, deeper. Quieter, almost inaudibly, 'Make it yours, Peter. Fuck - make it -' The Beholding fed on the deepest and most revolting of secrets. It was _feasting_. 'Ngh, it's so good, please! Please - _fuck_! I love it - I - love -'

Peter leaned forward, cock thrusting impossibly deep inside Elias, to wrap a large hand around Elias' cock. He felt his orgasm build, an immeasurably tight core of white-hot energy that rose and rose to an unbearable height of pleasure, before cresting in series of waves that coursed through his veins, sweeter than any drug Elias Bouchard had ever tried and peaking with new intensities as Peter continued to slam into that spot inside him with a glorious precision. He screamed wordlessly against Peter's skin as he shook through it before falling, boneless, onto his messy desk as his come dripped languidly onto the floor.

Peter's hand released his mouth and the rush of fresh air was dizzyingly good. They shared a groan as he pulled out.

'Where do you need this, Elias?'

The orgasm had cleared the haze of lust enough for Elias to appreciate that he didn't actually _need_ it anywhere. However, it had also left him marble-mouthed, dazed. He looked over his shoulder to blink at Peter's erection, the condom removed, purple from base to the leaking head. Peter wet his lips.

The chair squeaked as Peter and the floppy weight of the small man he had scooped into his arms sunk down onto it. Elias permitted himself to be rearranged across Peter's lap, his back supported by one of Peter's arms, cheek against the greying hair on his bare chest. This was something Elias Bouchard, when he had been Elias Bouchard, could never have pictured because he'd never experienced it. The privilege of feeling of the squeeze of his heart - bloody, raw - as he watched the stroke of a hand, Watched dark eyelashes flutter shut in an agonised pleasure, felt the shaky sighs that threatened to blow away the unseen fog settling around them. Elias reached up cup the side of Peter's face, tilting the Captain's head towards his own for an open-mouthed kiss.

Peter spilled over himself with a gasp that Elias stole straight from his lips. This body had claims it needed to make, too.

*

'Elias.' Peter tried again as the smaller man brushed a dot of lint off the back of his coat. Elias beamed and Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'Ugh.'

'What?'

'That - _smile_. I hoped it would look different on this face.'

Elias fought back the desire to cackle, thrilled to experience desires other than those of a sexual nature for the first time that day. It was difficult not to feel smug when a plan came together. 'Oh dear.'

'Stop it. Listen -'

'Yes, fine. I'll book you in for 9:30am and 2:30pm tomorrow. We can see how I fare with that.'

' _Elias._ ' Angry now. The air buzzed with a sudden static. Elias tasted saltwater. He reached up to run his fingers through Peter's beard, meeting the frosty glare of his eyes with his own ever-unchanged ones.

'I'll see you at home.' He whispered, tipping up onto his toes to kiss a pair of lips that -

That were no longer there.

Unperturbed, Elias spun round to face the disaster of a desk in the centre of his office. He ached, but that was all, he felt like he'd sunk a little further into this skin. He could _think_ now. For now. He started to pile the scattered documents into something vaguely resembling order and picked up the phone, eyeing the stack of discarded tissues in his office bin before dropping a few sheets of paper on top of them to disguise the mess.

'Mr Bouchard?'

'Hello, Rosie. I'll take that cup of tea now please, if the offer still stands.'

'Oh, yes, of course!'

'Lovely.' He sunk into his office chair and reached for the first sheet of paper in the pile: a request to review the Library's monthly spending on staples amid accusations that they had been stealing supplies from Accounts. _Very lovely_.

**Author's Note:**

> it seems those who write lonelyeyes office sex are doomed to write more . . . help?   
> [@writevale](https://writevale.tumblr.com/)


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